


Out of Sight, Out of Mind

by Brennah_K



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-27
Updated: 2013-12-27
Packaged: 2018-01-06 07:49:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1104281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brennah_K/pseuds/Brennah_K
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With everything that Lex knew about Clark, he had never imagined that he could have a secret left to be discovered.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

~Christ. One in the morning. Why the hell did I go to sleep? Of course, he’d call at one in the morning.~

“Dad, I don’t give a shit about whatever little nit-picking piece of bullsh...” Lex groaned into the phone as he threw back his head and rubbed his eyes.

“Lex?” a tear-filled voice on the other end sniffed. 

“Clark? My God, what’s wrong? Is Martha... ?”

“She's alright. Ev-ev-eryone’s fine, Lex.” Clark sniffled again as Lex heard a sound of cloth rubbing against the phone. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Lex sighed into the tense silence “Never mind.”

“Clark?” Lex asked with concern as his friend continued to breath heavily into the phone in a way that Lex was certain meant that he was crying. No point in arguing the fact, but it was obvious that ‘Everyone’ wasn’t fine. Clark had been raised to be so self-contained about his own worries that even the slightest nudge would start him bottling things up on even the best of days. “Really, I won’t ask, but you know that I’ll be happy to help in anyway that you need assistance.”

“Would it be okay if I … if I came over?” 

“Of course you can; you never have to ask.”

It’s true that they hadn’t really been close friends since Clark’s father died, but Lex had hoped that Clark would always remember that he would do anything for a friend. 

“You sure?” Clark sounded so uncertain and almost despondent. 

“Absolutely… Clark, would you like me to come get you?”

If he was sounding this off-kilter, Lex thought, it was probably better if Clark didn’t try to drive. Despite his easy acceptance of Clark’s ability and alter-ego, when Clark had finally confessed three years before, Lex knew that (following his adopted father’s precepts) Clark avoided using his speed and flight abilities unless absolutely necessary to the situation.

“Uh… Yeah, okay. If you’re sure you don’t mind?” 

“Okay, I’ll be there in a second.”

“Thanks, Lex.” Clark’s voice sounded rich with unexpected relief. 

Not certain what else he should say, Lex repeated his assurance that he would be there soon and hung up the phone. As he sat up, Lex found it difficult to remember the last time that he and Clark had even had the opportunity to catch up over coffee. Foregoing his admittedly narcissistic need to appear immaculate in public, Lex simply stepped into his lounge shoes, grabbed and overcoat, and rushed to the garage. 

Quickly glancing down the maintenance sheet, until he found the slot for the purple Lamborghini that was Clark’s favorite and usually reserved solely for Clark-related events—Lex was astonished to see that it had been over fourteen months since he had signed the sports car out. Fourteen months since he had actually seen Clark in flesh or flannel. 

Thankfully, even Metropolis slowed down after midnight, so Lex was able to push the Lamborghini through several irrelevantly-red lights to get to Clark’s apartment less than ten minutes after Clark had called. If Clark’s voice over the phone hadn’t been enough to warn Lex how upset Clark was, his absence on the lawn when Lex arrived would have. 

Lex had always enjoyed the fact that Clark was always so enthusiastic about the time they spent together that he had never failed to meet Lex at the driveway even if only to turn around once Lex arrived and follow him back into the apartment. Even after Clark’s final break up with Lana and her subsequent marriage to Pete, Clark had been waiting for him on the stone bench with his head cupped in his hands, and Clark had been a wreck that night. 

Barely giving the engine time to idle, he jumped out of the sports car and rushed to the door. Even as he was unlocking the door, a dramatically-trained voice came over the intercom: “Good evening, Mr. Luthor. Clark’s indisposed at the moment, but I will be happy to buzz you in.” 

“Don’t worry, I have a key.” 

“Really, that’s quite interesting. If we could have a moment…” The chill in the other man’s voice startled Lex, but he could have slapped his forehead as he thought about it deeper. Clark lived in rent-controlled, co-ed, barely-off campus apartments. Of course the management wouldn’t want their tenants to hand out their keys to anyone… regardless of whether that person had been able to pick any lock that he’d come up against since the age of seven. Well, probably, it would be particularly true if they knew that was true. 

~Give him a moment? He was probably going up to evict Clark. Damn! ~

Running through the door that he’d already unlocked when the man had called out, Lex saw that the ancient elevator was slowly creaking upwards. If he ran up the stairs, he could probably beat the man to the top and give him any reassurance that he needed-- up to and including a check to hire a lock company to replace every lock in the building. 

Pleased and rather proud of himself when he dashed into the sixth floor corridor to see that elevator had just left the second floor and was stopping at the third, Lex saw that Clark’s door was already opened... as though he had, in fact, been headed down to meet Lex when he realized that he had forgotten something inane - like turning off the coffee machine. Whenever Clark got upset, little details managed to slip his mind. 

Glancing back to the elevator, which hadn’t left the third floor yet, Lex decided that he had the time to check in on Clark and explain his gaff. As he neared the door, however, going inside suddenly seemed like a bad idea as one of gym bags that Lex had bought for the whole Smallville Crows football team came flying out the door to land in the middle of the hall. As he stared at it, Lex smiled at the thought that Clark had kept the bag as a memento… until it registered again that Clark’s bag had just flown through the door, in a way that he knew Clark would have never thrown it. Turning his gaze back to the door, he realized that he had been ignoring the voices coming from inside. 

“Please, Ben. Please, it wasn’t like that. I’ve never done that. You know I haven’t.”

“A key, Clark? You may not respect me enough to tell me the truth, but don’t assume that I am a bakayaro …” 

It was somewhat surprising for Lex to hear the Japanese epithet perfectly spoken by the cultured voice coming from room, even as he winced at the memories of expressing similar feelings to Clark several times over. Yet, once he was in on the secret, he’d felt overwhelmed for months by the responsibility of guarding every sign of Clark’s secrets from slipping out in conversations with his father or Lana, who –as Clark had feared- took it badly when she finally discovered the truth (even commissioning to have second meteorite necklace made during her three day absence). 

Clark had been absolutely devastated when she showed up three days after her discovery and abrupt disappearance to pack her things – wearing the necklace and throwing their engagement ring at him when he was forced to back away. The pain in his voice when he related their break up, in Lex’s memory, hadn’t been a tenth of the pain that he heard in Clark’s voice as he protested, “Ben, no. Please, I don’t think that you’re a fool.”

“An idiot, Clark” The man corrected harshly, “Bakayaro means idiot. But, perhaps, you think I’m a cabron…or a cuckold. ”

Sudden amazed understanding, filtered through Lex’s astonishment at the thought…that anyone could accuse Clark of...

“In case you’ve forgotten what that mean’s, a cabron” he enunciated the word carefully, “is a person who’s mate brings another man into their bed.” 

His careful explanation only served to highlight the resounding slap that echoed out into the hall. Without thinking, Lex dashed forward. If Clark had hit the man, or if the man had hit Clark, possibly breaking his fist, Lex might need to call his people in to deal with it discreetly, but as he crossed the threshold, he realized that it was Clark who was holding his cheek as a large red hand print slowly paled. 

“Ahh, and here’s your ‘friend’ now,” Ben sneered, “and dressed appropriately I see. Get out!” Turning on his heel, the man stormed angrily out of the room as Lex studied Clark with shock. 

Clark’s lip was bleeding at the corner, the red hand print was still visible, and most surprisingly, he was ‘sporting’ a black eye that was almost swollen shut.


	2. Chapter 2

For his part, Clark was staring after the angrily retreating man, apparently named Ben, in what seemed to be a state of shock.

“Clark?” Lex asked with quiet concern as he took slow steps toward his friend. 

Years ago, Lex knew that he would have simply charged after the man and taken him apart for even thinking of touching Clark. From the sound of the silently received slap, Lex had no doubt that ‘Ben’ was responsible for the black eye as well. 

But, while Clark had proven himself entirely capable of defending himself, he had also proven that his ‘unique background’ (as Lex now referred to it even in his thoughts) did not provide any immunity from making foolish, rash, and incredible mistakes. The fact that Clark was silently accepting the man’s violence seemed like a caution to Lex that he should go slow and not jump to conclusions about Clark’s innocence or guilt even though the sight of Clark so vulnerable filled Lex with an aching sadness.

When he eventually turned to face Lex, Clark almost jumped in shock, but quickly recovered and looked away as he threw his hand up to his throat and jerked on a thin leather necklace that Lex hadn’t noticed until Clark’s movement. 

When Clark turned his face back, the only sign remaining that he had ever been injured was the thin glaze of dried blood at the corner of his lips. Hanging from Clark’s hand, on the broken strand of black leather, Lex finally saw the tiny, thin, green pendant that was quickly loosing the last of the dim glow that it could support so far from Clark’s open skin. 

“Clark!?!” 

“C-c-could we..go? Please?” Clark eyes dropped, clearly embarrassed that Lex had seen him so broken.

Studying Clark quietly, Lex nodded even though he was only delaying the questions. 

~There is no way that aren't going to talk about this~ Lex assured himself silently - holding back from commenting on what he'd just seen solely out of respect for his friend's vulnerability. 

After a moment, when it was clear that Clark wasn’t going to look up, he finally answered, “Sure. Let’s go.”

Without another word, Lex stepped out into the hall, picked up the gym bag and turned to watch Clark’s slow, reluctant exit from the apartment.

His friend seemed so lost, lost in a way that he hadn’t been for years. It had been over a year since Lex had actually seen him, probably at least eight or nine months since their last phone call, and maybe six since their last email… and in that time, Clark had apparently met someone and fallen in love. If he was reading Clark’s anguished longing glances correctly - Clark had once again lost another love. He couldn’t help but shake his head at the irony of their comparative lives. 

Clark, truly the gentle, wholesome, boy-next-door, who never harbored an ulterior impure motive, had been as luckless as Lex in love. Lex knew that like himself, Clark would have done anything to support and protect his loved ones, which made his current partner’s accusation all the more incomprehensible; Clark would no more cheat on his partner than he would torture a defenseless puppy. 

‘Defenseless’, the word caught in Lex’s thoughts as he watched his friend - trying to understand what had not only prompted Clark to intentionally make himself defenseless, against Ben, but to also refuse to put those defenses back up even after Ben had clearly injured him. 

Silent and sluggish steps, finally brought Clark closer to the door, but as he reached the exit, he paused… lifted the leather necklace and dropped it into a small key basket by the door - a defeated expression falling over his features as the pendant struck some item with a soft chiming clink. 

After a moment, to Lex’s astonishment, Clark followed suite with a simple silver band that he’d pulled off his left ring finger, before dropping it into a key basket. It was plain enough to have been a wedding ring as its former location had indicated, but surely Clark had not changed so much in a single year that he would have gotten married without inviting Lex. 

Feeling Lex’s stare on him, Clark finally looked up and sighed. The exhaustion and emptiness in Clark’s eyes, as his friend tried work his mouth around some form of explanation, screamed exactly how much he had changed from the last time that Lex had gone out to lunch at Mama Leonelli’s. 

// Clark had been almost as nervous about finally ‘coming out’ as he had been two years earlier admitting that he wasn’t actually a mutant... but something far more astonishing. Lex, of course, had taken his admission in stride, having recognized the fact some years earlier, but never tried to push Clark’s self-awareness beyond his friend’s comfort. Clark’s eyes had lit up so brilliantly with gratitude, at the realization that Lex wasn't going to shun him as he'd apparently expected, that even fourteen months later, Lex could still remember the precise shade and tone of reflected light in his eyes. 

“Shhh. Don’t worry about it, let’s just get you home.”

Looking back on the intervening months, Lex could not remember being involved in anything that would have been in anyway more important than the man who stood before him. Yet a year of their friendship had been somehow been lost and with it, Clark’s happiness.

Bewildered and aching at the pain and emptiness that he saw in his friend’s eyes, Lex reached out, curling his knuckle, to brush tears from Clark’s lashes.


	3. Chapter 3

As Clark settled into the passenger seat, he turned to Lex, but before he could even open his mouth to stammer whatever uncomfortable apologetic explanation Lex could see lingering just below the surface – Lex cut him off gently. 

“No, Clark, I was serious. We can talk about it later. Tomorrow or, whenever you feel up to it.” He smiled warmly to re-enforce his well-intentioned rejection and continued to prevent any objection of Clark’s part, “beside that, I was simply shocked tonight when I read her maintenance report” he paused to slide his hand over the Lamborghini’s dashboard. “Do you know that it says we haven’t been out to dinner in over fourteen months?”

Clark dropped his chin short, jerky half-nod, apparently more aware of Lex’s recent absence than Lex had been. Smothering a wince, Lex assured him, “Well, it had been a surprise to me; it still feels like we had lunch just last Friday. Anyway, that’s just exactly my point; apparently, a lot has happened in our lives since the last time, and I can’t help but believe that your explanation could be better served by an update of what’s happened since then.”

Knowing what to expect when he saw Clark’s reticent reaction to the idea, Lex was already launching into a recount of the events that had started only minutes after their last lunch. By the time they had reached Lex’s parking garage, Lex was well into a rather complicated if bawdy tail of a business meeting in Japan that kept getting interrupted by a hotel manager, who kept insisting that Lex should accept the services of a variety of geishas. Despite Lex’s constant refusal, the manager kept implying that it was his duty to see that guest’s needs were satisfied. 

“So, the hotel had no idea that there were two Luthors in residence,” Clark asked in utter amazement at the situation. 

“Nope, I had been using Bruce’s suites throughout the entire week of negotiations, hoping to keep a low profile. The late-night desk staff, who signed me in, had not been on duty when Lionel signed in, but had been when I came down to reserve the conference room. So they firmly believed that Luthor who was occupying the conference room was the self-same Luthor installed in the penthouse and who’s personal assistant was calling down to check on the status of finding Mr. Luthor a suitable companion.”

“So, what did you do?” Clark asked with something approaching avid interest. 

“Well, after the fourth time, I realized what the problem was and let the latest candidate stay until the negotiations were over. 

“What about the other guy?”

“The other guy?”

“Yeah, the guy you were working out the contract with, didn’t it bother him to have … what did he think about the here-again-gone again manager bothering you all every five minutes with a prostitute in tow?”

“Well, you’re right, that could have been touchy. Particularly because “the other guy” was a very skilled business women, who could have easily taken offense to the other woman’s presence as a thinly veiled insult.”

“God! Did she?”

“No, not at all, she seemed to see the humor of it right away and stayed on after the contracts were finally signed and faxed to see how things were resolved between Dad and I.” Lex let the sentence trail off with an amused sigh wondering whether Clark would pursue the line of thought to the end of the story, but easily understood why Clark didn’t. 

Clark, who had grown up in a close relationship with his adopted father, had always been troubled by the troubled relationship between Lex and Lionel… particularly after Lionel had been freed from Jor – El’s hold… well, partially freed as the man seemed to have lapses of personality, which, on occasion, sent him back to the confines of Belle Reve. So, it wasn’t at all unexpected when Clark curtailed his natural curiosity, answering instead: “That’s good, then.”

“Yeah.” Lex began then changed his mind on finishing the story, which ended as usual with yet another take over attempt by his father - wasting almost two months of time better spent elsewhere. Instead, he launched into another story that had Clark laughing, albeit halfheartedly, but laughing anyway as they stepped onto the elevator. As soon as they’d entered the penthouse, however, Clark stiffened expectantly seeming to expect Lex’s questions to start up in a rapid fire barrage once they were in private. 

“Well, it’s late” Lex interrupted his anecdote, “and I can finish that tomorrow. It’s been a while since I’ve had the time to do more than straighten even the kitchen and office, so the game and guestrooms are probably just like you left them, but if you need anything else… just add it to the kitchen list.” Lex suggested gently hoping that Clark caught the implied welcome to stay however long he felt he needed to. Whether or not he did though, Lex couldn’t tell because Clark’s response was swallowed up in a jaw breaking yawn that screamed of Clark’s exhaustion as much by it’s size as by his halfhearted attempt to cover it. When he finally finished, Clark nodded and murmured a pained, “thank you” before turning and walking down the hallway just slow enough that to anyone else it would not seem like what it was: a grateful escape. 

Deeply concerned, Lex stared after him until it was obvious from Clark’s movements that he could feel Lex’s eyes on him but was refusing to risk his escape by looking back. 

“Thanks,” he finally murmured as he paused beside the guestroom door then slowly glanced back at Lex with a conflicted look. At the sight of his pained, torn expression, Lex easily and immediately understood – remembering Clark’s promise, from their last lunch meeting, that it was the last of his secrets and he wouldn’t hold anything back from Lex again, ever. 

“Tomorrow’s soon enough, Clark” Lex assured him gently, “Get some rest.”

Releasing a thankful sigh of relief that Lex understood him so well, Clark dropped his forehead to the door frame, trying to suppress both his gratitude and guilt at the easy reprieve. He should explain to Lex, he knew that, but…knowing his still had Lex’s attention, he lifted his head and nodded. 

“Night, Lex.”

ブレンキン

“Good night, Clark.” Lex’s eyes softened in the penthouse’s dim lighting were still clear enough for Clark to see his friends concern and worry. 

With nothing left to say that couldn’t wait until morning, Clark slipped into the room, toed off his shoes before dropping as lightly as he could onto the bed, and was drifting off even as he dropped his forearm across his eyes with a soft groan. Normally, he would have taken the time to get changed, but suddenly getting comfortable didn’t seem like it was worth the effort. 

That and in light of Ben’s earlier comments, he wasn’t certain that he wanted to deal with why he was still keeping several sets of clothes and pajamas at Lex’s.

His upbringing may have been somewhat unusual, given his special abilities, but even Clark knew that normal 20 something guys didn’t have sleepovers at their best friend’s apartments. For that matter, normal guys didn’t have best friends who kept a regular stock their favorite homemade apple shampoo and conditioner from a flea market dealer in Grandville, but then, regular guys probably didn’t call their friends at 1:00 to pick them up after a fight with their boyfriends… as the events of day started to sink in, that and all of the other things regular guys didn’t do drifted off to sleep with Clark. 

ブレンキン

Lex wasn’t sleeping. Instead, he had settled into his office chair to check something while he made arrangements to clear the next day’s schedule for Clark and was staring at a report that he had called up on just a hunch. 

In the past six months, the police had received fourteen domestic violence calls from Clark’s neighbors. Each account stated that the call had been investigated but nothing found to suggest that the complaints were valid. Most of the phone numbers listed were unfamiliar, but one down close to the bottom of the list from a call less than two weeks earlier seemed familiar. 

Lex wasn’t entirely certain; it wasn’t a number that he often dialed, but when he pulled out his cellphone and checked the speed dial – his suspicions were confirmed. The number matched another of Clark’s friends: Pete Ross.


End file.
